


It's Not What You Thought It Was

by Jld71



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Car Accident, Confused Sam Winchester, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mistaken Identity, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71
Summary: After hitting his head in a car accident, Dean regains consciousness with Sam next to him in the driver's seat of the Impala. Aside from hitting his head, he's fine, except to him, he and Sam aren’t brothers. He thinks Sam is his husband.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108





	It's Not What You Thought It Was

**Author's Note:**

> Do Not Re-Post Without My Written Permission - Only To Be Posted On My AO3 Or LiveJournal Accounts.
> 
> Written for the 2020 Gencest Challenge 
> 
> Beta: jerzcaligrl
> 
> Artist: Sars_08 https://growstheoak.tumblr.com/post/621462423871864832/after-hitting-his-head-in-a-car-accident-dean

Slowly Dean staggered out the front door with one hand fumbling in his pocket for the keys to the Impala and a lopsided grin on his face. Their night out had been a good one; no interruptions, nothing supernatural to deal with, just the two of them, greasy bar food, cold beers, and a few games of pool, and he had even managed to win a few bucks to top it off. His winnings hadn’t been big, but it had covered what they ate and drank, so definitely it was a win-win as far as he was concerned. He passed his free hand down his face and then turned back to see what was taking Sam so damn long to get his gigantic body out of the bar. He giggled at his thoughts of Sam’s ginormous body trying to fit into the booth they had been sitting in. Sam had been cramped and bent in a weird position. Everything was big on that kid, and Sam was the  _ little _ brother. His grin split his face when he saw Sam push open the door. “Hey, little brother,” he started to say as he pulled his hand out of his pocket, dropping the keys as he did. He staggered as he bent down to pick them up, managed to grab them after his third attempt, and nearly lost his balance standing back up. He shook the keys and then laughed. “You coming, or what?” he directed at Sam before he turned and started walking toward the Impala. He stumbled but righted himself before he fell as he took a few unsteady steps forward.

Seeing how Dean wasn’t fully in control of his body, Sam caught up to him. Placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder he stopped him from further movement. “Dean, you’re in no condition to drive.”

“Am, too,” Dean grumbled as he tried to shake Sam’s hand off his shoulder. 

“No, you’re not,” Sam huffed in irritation. He knew it was going to be a battle to convince Dean to give him the keys.

“I’m fi . . . fine,” Dean slurred.

“You’re not fine, you can barely stand,” Sam commented in frustration as he felt Dean sway in his grasp.

“I don’t need to stand to drive,” Dean reasoned as he finally wiggled out of his brother’s grip.

“Dean, come on, give me the damn keys!” Sam grabbed at Dean’s hands, managing to wrench the keys away from him after a brief struggle. “Get in.” He motioned to the car, but had to stop Dean when he opened the driver’s door. “No, Dean,” he said with a shake of his head. “The passenger side.” He pointed to the side that was normally his and watched as Dean glared at him. 

“Bossy bitch,” Dean grumbled as he made his way around the car, using it to steady himself as he walked. “My damn car,” he mumbled as he pulled the door open, nearly fell into the seat, righted himself, and then closed the door. He watched as Sam got in and started the car just as it started to downpour. “Be gentle with Baby,” he said and then leaned back, resting his head against the back of the seat.

“Always so damn worried about the car. I know how to drive,” Sam huffed in annoyance as he pulled the car out of its parking space and onto the highway. He thought about turning on the radio but dismissed the thought when he heard Dean groan. Taking his eyes off the road, he glanced over at Dean to see if he was going to be sick. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dean uttered, keeping his eyes closed as he relaxed into the seat, letting the movement of the car begin to lull him to sleep. He sighed deeply, letting the tension drain from his body. Maybe it wasn’t so bad letting Sam drive every now and then.

Taking his eyes off Dean, Sam looked up, trying to focus on the road, as a deer ran into his lane. “Shit!” He swerved to miss hitting it, driving through a deep puddle, sending them skidding along the slick highway. He pressed his foot down on the brake pedal and felt the brakes slip. 

Dean’s eyes popped open in surprise at hearing the panic in Sam’s voice. He raised his head up, trying to focus his attention on Sam as he sat up in the seat. “What?” he managed to get out as he felt the car’s tires losing traction against the wet road. He felt himself pitching forward as the brakes finally engaged and then everything went black. 

Sam slammed his foot on the brake pedal, feeling the brakes finally engage, bringing the car to a screeching halt. He heard a loud thunk and tore his eyes off the road to look over at Dean. “Dean!” he yelled when he saw his brother slumped over with his head resting on the dashboard. His breathing quickened as his heart hammered in his chest at the sight of Dean like that. He looked around wildly, hazel eyes darting from his brother to the dashboard, only to realize that Dean hadn’t put his seatbelt on. He heard Dean groan and his breath hitched in his throat. “Dean, Dean, say something.” He threw the car into park and then unbuckled himself in order to move closer to his brother so he was able to check on him. He twisted in his seat, reached out and placed one hand on the back of Dean’s head and the other on his shoulder. “Dean, hey, I’m gonna move you so you’re sitting up. Do you hear me?” 

Dean wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, just that he had. He heard a muffled voice speaking to him and he tried to focus on it. The voice sounded familiar to him, it sounded panicked, and it took him a moment to place it. Sam. It was Sam calling his name. Something was wrong; Sam sounded upset and he was trying to figure out why. What had gotten Sam so upset? Then he heard Sam asking if he was alright. He tried to nod in response and felt a shooting pain run through his head. He groaned, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt Sam’s warm hands on him, helping him to sit up and he winced as the movement caused his head to throb. “Sam . . . what happened?” he questioned as Sam helped him lean back against the seat. 

“A deer ran onto the road, I swerved to miss it and hit a major puddle. The water messed with the brakes.” He could feel Dean's eyes on him in the dark; judging him. There'd be enough time for Dean to chastise him after he made sure he was alright.

“Oh,” Dean murmured. “Sammy, my head hurts.” Aside from the throbbing pain in his head, he felt disjointed. He couldn’t seem to make sense of his thoughts. He knew he was in a car, but not why. He knew what had happened, but only because Sam had told him. And he knew he was with Sam and that he loved him. He felt the love he had for Sam burn bright and hot, almost as if it was all-consuming. He pulled himself from his muddled thoughts to ask, “Did we . . . did we hit the deer? Is it hurt?”

“No, we missed hitting it. Damn thing just ran off.”

“Good, glad to hear the deer’s not hurt,” he said, and then he was hit with a throbbing pain in his left temple. He tried to breathe through the pain, only to let out a pain-laced groan.

“I'm gonna need to turn the interior light on so I can check you out. Keep your eyes closed,” Sam advised as he pulled away from Dean, reached up and flicked the light on, flooding the interior of the car with light. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness and then turned back to Dean when they had. He could see a bruise forming over the corner of Dean's left eye, and the skin above was scraped, but wasn't bleeding. “Keep your eyes closed, I'm gonna see if anything’s broken.” He placed his hands on either side of Dean's face, prodding with his thumbs and then his fingers to check for broken bones. He felt Dean jerk from the pain his fingers caused, but he didn’t try to pull away. “Nothing's broken, but you're gonna have a black eye. You'll be sore for a few days. You scraped your forehead and you'll probably have a headache. Okay, slowly open your eyes.” He watched as Dean opened his eyes, trying to see if there was anything wrong with his sight. He saw green eyes staring back at him and he found himself smiling. “How’s your sight? Any double vision or black spots?” He pulled away, distancing himself from Dean so he wasn’t right in Dean’s face.

Dean whimpered from the loss of contact of Sam’s warm hands, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to lean back into him, to feel Sam pressed against him. He heard Sam’s concerned voice speaking to him, asking if he was alright if he could see him. He started to nod his head but stopped as he felt a flare of pain hit him. He bit back his groan of pain in order to answer Sam. “I’m fine Sam.” 

“You sure?” Sam looked away, checking to see if the rain had let up and to take a moment to get his nerves under control. The worst of the sudden rainstorm seemed to have passed them. He breathed a sigh of relief for not only that but that Dean, for the most part, was fine. He couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling in his mind; he had been driving, he hadn't been watching the road, Dean getting hurt had been his fault, not that of some hunt they had been on. He should have been more careful. 

Dean reached out and placed his left hand on Sam's arm, squeezing it to get his attention. “Are you alright? You didn't get hurt, did you?” He lifted his hand from Sam's shoulder, curled his fingers against his palm, and brought his hand up to Sam's face. He caressed Sam’s cheek softly and then ran his fingers through his hair. 

Sam jerked away from the tender touch, reacting to Dean as if he was a stranger because this tender touch was so unlike Dean. “What are you doing?” 

“Making sure you're okay like I normally do,” Dean responded softly, wondering why Sam even had to ask him that.

“O . . . okay, well that was just . . . that was weird.” Yes, Dean always made sure he was alright after a hunt, but never like that. The touch was too tender, too intimate for his liking. It wasn’t how Dean normally acted; rough and tough and impatient. 

Dean gave him a confused look, scrunching up his face and wished he hadn't when he was hit with a stabbing pain over his left eye. He groaned and raised his hand to rub the pain away, but stopped when he heard Sam telling him not to touch the area. “Yeah, okay,” he said as he dropped his hand onto Sam’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

Sam looked down in confusion at the hand resting on his thigh before looking up at Dean. His shoulders slumped as he met Dean’s eyes. “Go ahead, say it. I know you want to.”

Meeting Sam’s concerned hazel eyes, Dean felt the need to ask, “Say what?”

“Say I told you so. That even drunk, you’re a better driver than me.”

“Why would I say that? To you? It could have happened to anyone. How were you supposed to know a deer would run into the middle of the road? You’re being too hard on yourself.” He gave Sam’s thigh another squeeze and then offered him a soft smile. 

Sam decided not to read too much into Dean’s reaction. “Yeah, okay. I think I should get us home.” He gave Dean a questioning look but didn’t say anything else. Reaching up, he shut off the light and then moved back to his own seat. He grabbed onto his seatbelt and pulled it across his chest, buckling it in place. He glanced over at Dean to see him just sitting there. “Dean, seatbelt.”

“Oh, right.” Dean’s lips twisted into a slight smile, “Always taking care of me,” he said as he secured the seatbelt over himself and then felt the car moving, propelling them down the highway and toward their home. He shifted in his seat so he was able to look at Sam as he drove. The rest of the drive was made in silence, but Dean never took his eyes off of Sam.

As Sam pulled into the garage and cut the engine, he looked over at Dean. He had felt his eyes on him the entire time he had driven them back, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Dean, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dean sighed as he forced himself to take his eyes off of Sam and follow him inside.

“I’m gonna get you some painkillers for your head and then I want you to go lie down,” Sam announced as he walked into the kitchen where they kept their over-the-counter medications. He busied himself with that task as Dean made his way to his room and then joined him a few minutes later carrying a bottle of water and the medication. He knocked and then pushed the door open when he heard Dean’s muffled voice telling him to come in.

Dean looked up from the bed as Sam pushed the door open. He had managed to get changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants without falling over despite the throbbing in his head. He gave Sam an appreciative smile when Sam offered him the medication and water. “Thanks for that,” he said after he had swallowed the pills and sipped at the water before placing the half-finished bottle on the nightstand. He watched as Sam turned to go and he reached out and grabbed onto Sam’s wrist, pulling him back to him. “No, Sam, stay with me.” 

Sam jerked back in surprise at Dean’s request, pulling himself free from Dean’s grasp. “What?” 

“Stay with me,” Dean repeated as he moved over to give Sam room to lie down. 

“Dean . . . I can’t . . . I’ve got some things to take care of.”

“Things? What things? What’s more important than being with me?” Dean demanded as he narrowed his eyes at Sam; ignoring the throbbing of his head. 

“You must have hit your head harder than I thought.” Sam looked at Dean and then gave him a weary smile. “You’re screwing with me. Very funny.” He turned and walked out of the room. “Get some sleep, you need it,” he called as he disappeared out of Dean’s room and down the hall.

Burrowing down into his blankets, Dean rolled onto his side and drew his knees up to his chest, encircling his arms around them. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, wondering why Sam thought he was screwing with him. All he wanted was to have Sam lie with him until he fell asleep, he didn’t think it was too much to ask of the man he loved. Apparently Sam thought otherwise. His thoughts seemed to run in circles regarding Sam as he drifted off to sleep.

When Dean woke the next morning, it was with a quiet determination to have Sam spend time with him. It was obvious to him that they needed it. Somehow, they had drifted apart and needed to reconnect. Pushing aside his blankets, he got out of bed and made his way down the hall to the kitchen with the idea of making breakfast for them. It was the first step in getting Sam to spend time with him. As he rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, he stopped when he saw Sam. “Oh, you already ate?” He could feel disappointment flooding his body as he took in the sight of Sam sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of food in front of himself. Sam hadn't waited for him. Sam hadn't even bothered to ask him if he wanted anything. 

Sam raised his eyes up from his laptop to meet Dean’s as he took the last bite of his egg-white omelet. “Ah, yeah, why?” he asked after swallowing the food.

“I was gonna make us breakfast.” Dean shrugged his shoulders and turned away. “Guess it doesn't matter,” he murmured to himself as he tried to figure out what he wanted to eat. He had planned on making them pancakes, but now that Sam had already eaten, he no longer wanted them. He rummaged through the cabinet, settling on cereal. He grabbed a bowlful and walked over to join Sam. He sat, eating his cereal quietly, stealing glances at Sam whenever he could. When he was finished his cereal, he pushed his bowl aside and sat forward, tapping on the table to get Sam’s attention. “So, I was thinking maybe we could go see a movie, maybe go for a walk after.”

Sam pulled his attention away from the online article he had been reading to answer Dean. “You’re kidding, right?” He watched as Dean shook his head no. “I’ve got things to do.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Dean pushed himself away from the table, grabbed his bowl, and walked to the sink. Turning on the water, he washed it along with the few dishes that had been left there. Once done, and turned to see Sam getting up from the table. “So, do you want some company while you’re doing whatever it is you need to do?” At least he was trying to bridge the gap between them, he told himself. 

“I’ve got it covered,” Sam commented as he passed Dean on his way to the sink to wash his plate. “Besides, you should probably be resting after last night.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dean nodded and bit his lip, stopping himself from saying anything more. Feeling rejected, he quietly made his way back to the bedroom, wondering why Sam didn’t want to spend time with him. As he closed the door behind himself, his eyes swept over the bed. Just where had Sam slept last night, because it certainly hadn’t been in bed with him? He began to wonder how bad it really was between them. Had he done something to hurt Sam? He sank down on the bed, trying to make sense of everything. Last night, after their accident, Sam had been genuinely concerned for him, he not only saw it but felt it. But now, it was like Sam wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the changes in Sam from one moment to the next. Maybe Sam was right, maybe he needed more rest. Hopefully, a nap would refresh him and then he could figure out what was going on between them and fix whatever was broken.

When he woke from the nap, he had formulated a plan, one he thought would work to help them reconnect. With that in mind, he showered and dressed before leaving the bedroom. He searched for Sam, only to find that he was alone in the bunker. Grabbing his phone, he sent Sam a text.

Dean - Hey, just wondering when you’ll be back.

He sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Sam’s reply, hoping Sam would in fact answer him. He placed his phone on the table, facedown, so he wouldn’t stare at it. After a few minutes, he pushed himself away from the table to search through the kitchen. If he wanted his plan to work, he wanted to make sure they had what he needed to make dinner for that night. He didn't want to have to run out to grab something only for Sam to come home and ruin his surprise - a romantic dinner for the two of them. After all, the way to any man’s heart was through his stomach, and he was sure Sam would be no different. With a satisfied smile, he had settled on what he would make for dinner. Now all he needed was for Sam to respond to his text. Nearly ten agonizing minutes later, his phone pinged, indicating he’d received a message. He walked over, grabbed it, and read the message.

Sam - Something wrong?

Dean - No, just wanted to know.

Sam - Do you need something?

Dean - Figured we could have dinner. Maybe watch a movie after.

As he sent the message, he felt his heart clench and his breath hitch in his throat. What if Sam responded back that he wasn’t interested in having dinner with him? What if Sam had other plans? What if Sam was meeting someone else for dinner? He stared at his phone, willing Sam to answer him as he watched the movement of the little bouncing dots indicating that Sam was typing a response. He nearly dropped his phone when it pinged.

Sam - Sounds good, should be home in about an hour.

Dean felt his heart skip a beat as he read Sam’s response. He smiled as he typed his reply.

Dean - See you then.

He waited a minute or so to see if Sam would text back. When his phone remained silent, he placed it back down on the table and set about creating a romantic night for them. After placing the lasagna in the oven to bake, he rummaged through the bunker’s kitchen and then storage areas searching for a tablecloth, candlesticks, and candles. He wanted everything to be just right for Sam, well for  _ them _ . It felt like he was missing something and if he could pinpoint what it was, he could fix whatever it was that was broken between them. But in order to do that he needed Sam to spend more than five minutes in the same room with him. He was determined that tonight, he was going to make that happen. Feeling like he needed some liquid courage, he disappeared into the bedroom where he knew there was a bottle of single malt scotch stashed. He just needed a shot or two to steady his nerves. Sitting on the bed, he reached into his nightstand and grabbed the bottle. Uncapping it, he raised it to his lips and took a long pull from it, shuddering as the liquid hit the back of his throat. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked down at the bottle. He reached for the cap, about to recap the bottle when he shrugged and took another pull from it before stashing it away again before making his way back into the kitchen. 

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise when he walked into the kitchen to find the table covered in a tablecloth and set for what looked like a romantic dinner for two. As he took in the sight before him, he wondered if he had read Dean’s text wrong. Dean had texted him about them having dinner together, hadn’t he? He was about to dig his phone out of his pocket to reread the text messages between them when he heard movement and turned to see Dean walking toward him. 

Dean couldn’t help the wide smile that formed on his lips when he saw Sam. “Hey,” he breathed out.

“Hey. So, what’s all this? I thought we were having dinner together?” Sam asked in confusion. “Did I get it wrong?”

“No, this is for us. I thought I’d make it a nice night for us. We’d have a good meal, watch a movie, and spend some time together,” Dean offered in response to Sam’s questions.

“Oh, well . . . This is nice, I guess.” Sam looked at the table and then back at Dean, offering him a nervous smile. “So . . . Ah . . . What did you make?”

“Lasagna, figured it was something we both liked. And, I made a salad. Just for you.”

“Really? Wow, that’s . . . that’s great, thanks. So, um, do I have time to wash up?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta pull the lasagna out, give it a few minutes to sit before serving it. Go, wash up and I’ll get things ready.” He shooed Sam away and then went over to the stove. Turning off the oven, he pulled out the baking dish, placed it on top of the stove, and then grabbed the salad and two beers from the refrigerator. He placed those on the table and then lit the candles. He looked up from what he had been doing when he heard Sam entering the kitchen. “Just in time,” he stated as Sam joined him.

“The table . . . it looks nice,” he complimented and caught Dean seeming to preen in response. “The lasagna smells good and the salad looks great.”

“Thanks, we deserve a nice night.” Dean motioned for Sam to sit and then joined him, passing him the salad. “We haven’t had a lot of them lately. I figured we could spend some time together. You know . . . reconnect.” Even though he wasn’t a fan of rabbit food, he placed some on his plate. He could at least show interest in what Sam liked to eat. It wasn’t the greatest thing he had ever eaten, but it also wasn’t the worst. 

Sam eyed Dean dubiously as he placed a small helping of salad on his plate. He knew how Dean felt about eating anything halfway healthy, so to see him actually eating salad was disconcerting. “Dean, you’re eating salad?”

Dean shrugged, “Thought I’d give it a try.”

“And?” Sam questioned with a chuckle.

“Still not a fan.” He reached for his beer and took a long pull off it, needing to get the taste out of his mouth. He heard Sam laughing and he shrugged. “Can’t say I’m not willing to try . . .” Feeling a bit apprehensive, he grabbed his beer and drained it. “So, I’ll go get the lasagna.” Not giving Sam time to reply, he pushed himself away from the table to retrieve their dinner. He took his time cutting and plating the lasagna before returning to the table. Carefully, he placed Sam's plate down in front of him and then his own in front of his chair. “Do you need anything else? Want another beer?” He questioned as he went to grab himself another. 

“No, I haven't even finished my first one,” Sam called out. A few moments later, Dean was back, sitting across from him and watching him intently. He frowned as he met Dean's stare. “What?”

Dean nodded at Sam's plate. “How is it?”

Sam looked down at the food on his plate, “Oh, it's good. I mean, you know, it's just lasagna.” Looking up, he saw the passing look of hurt on Dean's face as Dean nodded and looked away from him. This was all so strange he thought. Dean wasn't acting like himself. 

Dean picked up his fork, pushed around his food, trying to will away the hurt he was feeling over Sam's callousness. True, it was only lasagna, which just about anyone could make, but he had made it for Sam with the hope that they could reconnect. Maybe Sam didn’t want to reconnect, was the only thing he could think of as he grabbed his beer and took a long pull from it. Setting the bottle down, he picked up his fork again and forced himself to take a bite of the lasagna. It tasted fine, good actually, definitely better than the salad. 

Sam watched Dean as he pushed his food around his plate, getting the feeling that he had hurt his feelings with his less than stellar comments about the meal Dean had put together for them. He still didn’t understand all the trouble he had gone to, or why Dean had set the table like he had, but clearly it had been important to him. Swallowing his mouthful of food, he got up to get himself a second helping. Sitting back down, he cleared his throat to get Dean’s attention. “This was great. The food was amazing. I appreciate everything you did. Thank you.”

Dean pulled his eyes off his plate to look up in astonishment at Sam. He saw the dimpled grin on Sam’s face and he returned it with a grin of his own. “Really? You liked it? Thanks.” He ate a few more bites of his dinner and finished off his beer by the time Sam had finished his second helping. Pushing aside his plate, he grabbed Sam’s beer. “You’re not gonna finish that, are you?” He gave Sam a sly smile and waited for Sam to answer him. When all Sam did was smile and shake his head at him, he raised the bottle to his lips and drained the last of it. “Okay, so why don’t we let the dishes soak and then pick a movie?” he suggested. Standing up, he moved quickly around the table to grab Sam’s plate and hurried to put them in the sink to soak after wrapping up the leftover lasagna. “Okay, I think that’s everything for now.” 

Sam stood up, turned to ask Dean what movie he was thinking they should watch and knocked into him. Instincts took over and he reached out, grabbing Dean so he didn’t fall and ended up with him in his arms. 

Before Sam could push him away, Dean did the only thing he could think of and threw caution to the wind. “Your hands, they’re so big.” Dean looked down at Sam’s feet, sucked in a breath, and then looked back up into his eyes. “So are your feet.” He snickered and then leaned into Sam, resting his head against his shoulder, “I mean, other parts of you are big, too.” It wasn’t his best attempt at flirting or trying to tempt Sam, he knew he was off his game, but at least he was trying.

“What, did you . . . Are you trying . . .” Sam was at a loss for words. He couldn’t form a cohesive sentence at that moment. Sam squeezed his eyes closed in embarrassment and shook his head. 

“Sam, I don’t know what happened between us, but isn’t it time we fixed things?”

“Dean, I don’t know what you’re thinking . . .”

“Sammy, sweetheart . . .”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise at hearing Dean calling him sweetheart. Where the hell had that come from? What the hell was Dean doing? Was he playing with him or was Dean . . . ”Are you drunk?” What the fuck was he going to do? How the hell was he going to make it through this with his  _ brother _ in the state he was in. Placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders, he gently pushed him away from him. He didn’t miss the look of confusion on his brother’s face when he put some distance between them. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Dean’s confusion at Sam pushing him away quickly morphed into excitement. “Hell, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, Sam.”

Sam groaned at Dean’s words. “Dean, whatever you think is going on between us, it’s not real. It’s a result of the hit you took to your head.”

“What . . . what are you talking about?” Dean asked in confusion. He turned to leave, feeling the need to distance himself from Sam. He took a few steps away from Sam and then turned around to confront him. “Sam, is there someone else? Are you . . . are you seeing someone else? Is that why . . .”

“Dean, just who do you think I am?”

Dean looked at him in confusion. What the hell did Sam mean, who did he think he was? “Stop playing with me, my damn head hurts.”

“Dean, answer the question.”

“You’re Sam, my Sammy.”

“Yeah, but what am I to you?”

Shooting Sam an eye roll, he placed his hands on his hips and answered him, “My husband.” 

Sam tried to swallow, and only ended up choking on his own saliva. “Why . . . why would you think that?” 

“Because we have the same last name.”

“Dean, we’re not married, we’re brothers. You’re my older brother. That’s all there is between us.”

“No . . . no . . . no.” Dean shook his head in denial as he closed his eyes. He didn’t understand what was going on. Why was Sam being so cruel? 

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, getting his attention, causing him to open his eyes and look at him. “Dean, we’re brothers.”

He looked at Sam, really looked at him. Was Sam telling him the truth? Were they really brothers? He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of everything as images began to flash in his mind; him holding Sam as a baby, the two of them fighting as teenagers, watching as Sam left for college . . . It was beginning to make sense, and it was all too much. He felt himself being engulfed by blackness and he let go, not wanting to fight it as he sunk into unconsciousness.

“Dean!”

Slowly Dean started to awaken. He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned when his fingers brushed against his forehead. He tried to sit up but felt something pushing him back down. Opening his eyes, he realized that something pushing at him was Sam. 

Placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders, Sam gently applied pressure, pushing him back down on the bed. “Don’t move too fast. You’ve been out of it for a few days.” Letting go of Dean, he sat down on the edge of his bed. “You scared the shit out of me, you stubborn jerk.” 

“S . . . Sam?” he croaked out. His throat was raw and his mouth was dry. He gladly accepted the bottle of water that Sam offered him. Taking a sip, he felt the cool water ease the soreness, making it easier for him to speak. He cleared his throat, wincing at the tenderness, “Sam, what’s going on?”

Sam barked out a humorless laugh. “What’s going on? You’re joking right?” He watched as Dean shook his head no and huffed in annoyance. “You were fighting the flu and refused to take anything for it. You said all you needed was a beer and some sleep, then you passed out, fell, and hit your damn head. I practically had to carry you back to your bedroom. You’ve been in and out of it for the past day or so. Looks like the worst has passed if you’re finally awake.”

Dean rubbed nervously at the back of his head. He closed his eyes and was hit with the sudden need to clear something up. Opening his eyes, he looked at Sam, “We’re brothers, right?”

Sam jerked back at the question and frowned at him, “Yeah, why?”

“No reason, just a really weird dream I had,” Dean spoke more to himself than Sam. He watched as Sam stood up and started walking toward the door. 

“I’m gonna go make you some soup. I’ll bring it to you. I don’t want you falling and bashing your brains in. Again.”

“Very funny,” Dean huffed out.

“Not when it was me carrying your heavy ass to bed.” Sam cackled at the scowl on Dean’s face before disappearing from the room.

Leaning back against his pillow, Dean tried to make sense of everything as he closed his eyes. “It’s not what you thought it was,” he whispered to himself. Sam was his brother, and everything else had been a dream. He felt his hammering heartbeat begin to return to normal as he let go of the idea that there had been anything more between them than brotherly love. Then he was hit with a twinge of sadness at the idea of them only being brothers. And where the hell had that come from? His eyes shot open as he sat up. This dream had him twisting. Did he have feelings for his own brother? He shook his head no, it had to be the effects of the flu and him hitting his head, he thought to himself as he settled against his pillows and closed his eyes. “Stupid dream.”


End file.
